


Now Everything is gone (I'm left with wounds of battles that I never won)

by Amegrahu12



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Blood and Injury, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Will Tag More As Needed, haha try and catch all of my many merlin references, kryptonite injuries - Freeform, moderately period accurate but with some leeway because i'm the author and i can, whips give really nasty wounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:34:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amegrahu12/pseuds/Amegrahu12
Summary: Lex’s face split in a hard smile as he looked her up and down.“I will admit, with all the rumors I’ve heard about you I expected a bit more. For one, I did imagine you taller. It’s rather... disappointing.”Kara smiled. “And I imagined you with more hair.”His features twisted with rage. Pain flared across her face as one of the guards backhanded her. She spat blood onto the once white stones. Something dripped down her cheek, that guard had been wearing a metal gauntlet, it was pointed at the knuckles.“This is the great Kryptonian warrior queen, the Last Daughter of Stars. The Girl of Steel.” He scoffed. “And here you are.”“Here I am.”...Or Medieval AU where Kara is the queen of Krypton, Lex is a king hellbent on genocide, and Lena just really hates her family.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 30
Kudos: 192





	1. An Ivory Dagger

The birds on the tapestries seemed to dance in the dim flickering light of the candles. A small red glare still twisted the colors of their wings, the remnants of fast-fading sunlight. Kara sat stiffly, fingers bunched in her skirts, as the lady in waiting bustled about her, adding candles and straightening pillows. The servant did her best to ignore the dirt and assorted plant life that adorned Kara. The manor received few high-class guests as of late, not on this side of the mountains, not now. The lady-in-waiting-- Eretlen, she believed was the woman’s name-- would have to take what she could get. Eretlen gave a coarse huff, dumping (a little unceremoniously) a new dress on the chaise as she left the room. Kara had insulted her by refusing her offer of attendance. A necessary evil. The less time she spent around these people the safer they would all be. If Eretlen had seen the wound... Kara’s fingers tightened on her dress. Eretlen had been dealt with, it was time to focus on the High Captain. Most women of her stature would have found great difficulty in removing the many layers and skirts, but Kara had been forced to learn quickly. She did her best to scrub the past week or so from her skin with the small basin of water and rag that had been left for her. The water turned pink as she washed her side. A twisted gash was there, four-pointed where the barbs of the arrow had torn at her flesh; the veins around it darkened green. It was getting worse. She was running out of time. This setback would cost her more than she could afford. Her fingers fumbled with the ties of her new dress, blue silk, expensive-- Rao, how long had it been since she felt silk?--, exhaustion settling in her bones. The pulsing nausea and pain threatened to topple her over. She managed to get the last knot of her chemise tied and was reaching for the corset when the High Captain burst into the room. She jerked around, grabbing (rather belatedly) at the silk dress and did her best to recover what little modesty she could. Cheeks burning and jaw tight she opened her mouth to speak but he raised a silent hand. 

“My apologies for the… interruption, but I do think we should speak with some urgency.” His mouth was cracked with a smile, it did not reach his eyes. 

“Could the matter not wait until I had finished dressing?” 

“No.” His face did not change. He barely blinked. “What, exactly, would a young woman like yourself be doing on this side of the mountains?” Kara cleared her throat. 

“I was a part of a merchant caravan. We lost a wheel and had already used our spare. As you may have noticed, being stuck in the night out here isn’t exactly… Pleasant.” His smile slipped, mouth twisting into a grimace. 

“I’m sorry. I’ve lost men myself to the night raids here. Were there any survivors?” He was buying it. Thank Rao! He was buying it. 

“Not to my knowledge.” She tried to be nonchalant as she brought the corset over her head and began threading it. The High Captain at least had the decency to look embarrassed. He cleared his throat, 

“I do apologize for the inconvenience, but on this side of the mountains you really can never be too careful, Mistress...”

“Danvers. Allura Danvers.” 

“High Captain Lockwood of the King’s third division.” He proffered a hand but Kara simply stared at it until it was dropped. _He burst in while she was half-dressed and expected courtesy?_ “As I was saying, there was a skirmish last week about two leagues from where you were found, a group of Kryptonian militants ambushed one of my scouting teams.” Kara did her best to keep her face blank. _Ambushed? A scouting team? He dared--_ “Luckily there was a squadron in the area and the scouts managed to set off a warning. The squadron went in and quickly rounded up the rabble.” Kara barely managed to hide a wince as she pulled the lacing taut.

“I hope none of your soldiers were hurt. Were the poor scouts alright?” Her mouth seemed to curdle at the words, but they would be expected. 

“Oh, yes of course. One man suffered a nasty knock to the head but the secondary squadron arrived just in time.” 

“Well, that’s a tremendous relief.” Kara placed a hand to her chest, then feigned a sudden realization. 

“Wait! You did catch all of them, right? I wouldn’t like to think they ran into any survivors from my group.” _Someone else had to have gotten out. Surely she wasn’t the only survivor. Someone had to take this news back to Argo. Someone._

“There was one.” His eyes had suddenly become icy, the comforting smile gone. “I’m sure you’ve heard of her, she does sit on the Sun throne.” Kara’s blood turned to ice. “She was supposedly quite badly injured in the fighting, an arrow to the gut. So, _Mistress_ _Danvers_ , would you mind terribly to remove your clothing?” Kara froze. She pasted on an expression of righteous indignation and stood. 

“Excuse me? How dare y--” He crossed the room in three strides. 

“Remove it, or I will do it for you.” His hand was tight around her wrist, a knife pressed against her neck. Kara let out a slow breath, raising her chin. The door might as well have been miles away. 

“If you are going to kill me, Lockwood, I’d much prefer to die at least partially clothed.” He smiled, this time, it did reach his eyes.

“Well, look at that. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Kara Zor-El.”

… 

  
  


Someday, Kara was going to burn this entire castle to the ground. Of course, she’d have to escape first to do that, a prospect which seemed ever more unlikely by the day. King Lex Luthor of the Cadmian Empire strode into the cell looking distinctly out of place. The thin slats of light that shone through high windows far above Kara’s head illuminated the large motes of dust that gathered from the floor onto his cloak, dampening the gold embroidery. His lips curled with distaste as he glanced around the blood and filth. But all of his discomfort melted away upon the sight of Kara. She was still only dressed in a shift and corset, now more grey than white, with red-brown stains of dried blood. She kneeled on the hard stone, hands chained over her head, shackles glowing a faint green. Her side burned, an agony she could barely describe. Lex’s face split in a hard smile as he looked her up and down. 

“I will admit, with all the rumors I’ve heard about you I expected a bit more. For one, I did imagine you taller. It’s rather... disappointing.” 

Kara smiled. “And I imagined you with more hair.” 

His features twisted with rage. Pain flared across her face as one of the guards backhanded her. She spat blood onto the once white stones. Something dripped down her cheek, that guard had been wearing a metal gauntlet, it was spiked at the knuckles. 

“This is the great Kryptonian warrior queen, the Last Daughter of Stars. The Girl of Steel.” He scoffed. “And here you are.” 

“Here I am.” 

Lex smiled again, crouching to eye level with her. “I’m going to kill you, Kryptonian, and when I am done with you, I’m going to hunt down every last one of you filthy creatures, and I will burn them all. Don’t worry,” Lex’s smile grew vicious, “I’ll make sure they survive the smoke long enough to be killed by the flames.” Lex turned to the guards, then stopped, looking back. 

“And one more thing, I’ve already dug up a nice plot to bury you all in.” Kara’s jaw tightened and she fought to keep her face calm. _Bury them?_ _Yes. Someday, she would reduce this place to less than rubble._ Satisfied with his threats, Lex finally spoke with the guards. 

“She’s scheduled for execution tomorrow morning, make sure she’s properly broken in by that time, I’d prefer she not become a martyr if we can help it.” 

He spared one last glance for her before stalking from the room, the cell door clanging behind him. 

“Well,” the guard who had slapped her stepped forward, signaling the others to move as well. “You heard our orders.” 

Kara sighed and gritted her teeth. This was going to really suck. 

… 

She had never been as grateful for the Luthor obsession with black stone as she did now, back against a wall, desperately pressed into the shadows. Three guards walked past her, torches in hand, armor clanking almost as loudly as her heart beat inside her chest. With her cloak gripped tight in one fist, she hurried down the hall as quickly as she dared, bag jostling on her shoulder. 

_Three lefts, down two flights then a right. Three lefts, down two flights then a right. Three lefts, down two flights then a right._

As she rounded the last left, she very nearly swore and threw herself backwards, ducking into a nearby storage room, three palace guards marching past where she had just stood. _Damn. She was running out of time, the alarm would sound soon and then--_

An enormous, clanging tone shook the room. 

_Damn._

… 

The guards dropped Kara to the stone and stared as warning bells rang out across the castle. She coughed and readjusted her shift, bloody hands slipping on the stones as she tried to push herself onto all fours. 

At least the shackles had been taken off. 

The guards dropped Kara to the stone and stared as warning bells rang out across the castle. She coughed and readjusted her shift, bloody hands slipping on the stones as she tried to push herself onto all fours. 

At least the shackles had been taken off. 

They lay a few feet away, horrible glow still clawing at her flesh. The bells sounded again, Kara realised they were going in a pattern, four rings, a pause and then two.  _ What did it mean?  _ The guards looked between her and the direction of the castle, then sprinted out of the cell, barely remembering to lock the door behind them. Kara reached across to her back, hissing as her fingers met torn flesh. The whip they had used lay several feet away from her. Her chemise was torn across her back, to give them more access, her now unusable corset hung off her, kept up by a few spindly threads. The guard whipping her had been quite offended when Kara had related his swings to that of her rotted mother’s corpse, perhaps antagonizing the man currently beating her with barbed leather was not her smartest plan, but if she was going to die in the morning, she would die with spirit intact. Her back did throb terribly though. 

The sound of metal against metal snapped her from her thoughts. Someone was unlocking her cell. She pushed herself upright (well, on her knees still, but more upright than she had been). The door pushed open; Kara steeled herself for the guards… and instead found a pale, dark-haired woman wearing a green cloak stepping inside, staring back over her shoulder. There were two sacks over her other shoulder and keys in her hand. The woman turned, and without wasting a second began to pull items from the smaller sack. Another cloak, blue, a pair of boots and a finely crafted sword, branded with the Luthor house crest.  _ What in Rao’s name-- _

“I see you’re already unchained. Hurry and put those on, we have very little time.” 

Kara gaped. “Who? What? I-- What’s happening?” 

The woman looked up at her with barely concealed terror, “I’m rescuing you, and if this goes well you will be rescuing me. Now please hurry, I set a false trail but that won’t buy us much time.” 

She stopped and looked back at Kara, green eyes searching, “You are Kara Zor-El, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Can you stand?” 

Kara grimaced. It was taking all of her energy just to kneel here. “I’m not sure.” The woman swore, “Well, I can’t say I didn’t think it might be a possibility.” 

The woman reached over and began tying the cloak around Kara’s shoulders; she froze as she caught sight of Kara’s back. She threw the cloak aside. 

Kara heard her mutter something that sounded like “Bloodthirsty egomaniacal bastard.”  _ Did she mean the king or her guard?  _ Dazedly, Kara reached over and pulled on one of the boots. The woman fished another weapon from the sack, a small dagger with an ivory, jeweled sheath. 

Kara stared. “Well, that certainly won’t draw attention.” 

The woman shot Kara an irritated look, “We can pry up the stones for money and bribes.” She unsheathed the dagger and began cutting the sack into strips. Kara bit back a hiss as she wrapped the strips around her torso. Her hands moved with a practiced care.  _ Not a medic but perhaps… _

“You’ve seen combat?” The woman’s hands stilled on the linen 

“More than I would have liked to.” Kara nodded.

“Have we ever met on the field?” 

“My brother generally kept me well away from the infantry.”

“That’s not an answer.” An almost smile ghosted across the woman’s face. 

“Depends on how you define meeting on the field. In person? Once or twice.” 

“Are you going to tell me who you are?” Kara asked, pulling on her other boot.

The woman tied off the bandages and sheathed the dagger, attaching it to her belt. She hoisted Kara to her feet-- this woman was stronger than she looked. With one of Kara’s arms slung about her shoulder, the woman handed Kara the sword. 

“Lena.” She pushed open the cell door. “My name is Lena Luthor.” 

Kara choked on air. 


	2. An Emerald Shard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Lena escape the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who totally forgot that wounds bleed! Sorry about the edit to the first chapter, I have added a small sequence showing Kara’s wounds were bandaged and a modification to the dressing scene to make it more period-accurate, but you will want to reread the last paragraph or so. Sorry again. On an almost unrelated note: As it turns out, burlap was not invented until the 1790s, and despite the fact that I have based the fashion off of the early 1800s, (because I can), literally every other aspect of this fic is more reminiscent of the mid 1500s, so no burlap sacks. The sack Lena tore would have been made from either canvas or linen (I chose linen), much easier to tear and cut, and not excruciatingly painful as a bandage to scourge wounds! Why, exactly, am I going this in-depth about godforsaken sackcloth? I don’t know!

“Shit!” Lena swung Kara around and pulled her back from the hallway crossing. A guard squadron rushed past, lances raised. Lena stuck her head out, checking for more soldiers. Her dark curls swayed as she spoke, 

“It’s clear.”

Kara gritted her teeth as they began moving again, each step shifting the makeshift bandages across her wounds. “Your Highness, not to sound ungrateful, but why exactly have you decided to commit treason?” 

“Well, _Your Majesty,_ I will be happy to explain in great detail, when we are no longer inside the palace of the man against whom I am committing treason.” 

Kara nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.” 

They ducked behind a set of columns as another guard patrol marched past. 

… 

It was a dark and stormy night, and Kara almost laughed at the sight of it. Thick clouds obscured the moon, and a deluge of water battered the ground. Thunder rolled in the distance as Kara and Lena slipped into the stables. They froze. A stableboy was rushing from horse to horse, trying to soothe the stamping animals. He turned and audibly squeaked, eyes flicking between them and the door. The boy cleared his throat. 

“Your Highness, the guards are looking for you.” 

“I am aware of that, Samuel.” 

Samuel bounced from foot to foot, looking about as nervous as the horses. “Your Highness, if I give you a horse, I’d be committing treason.”

“I am aware of that too. Which is why I expressly ordered Master Riley to give you leave today.” It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but Kara thought Samuel turned slightly pink at the statement.

“He did. I-- Old Mistress Hartley said a storm was comin’ tonight and I wanted to comfort the horses. Master Riley doesn’t know I’m here.” Lena squeezed her eyes shut and swore quietly. Kara’s mind echoed the sentiment. _He’ll be executed if he lets us leave. Rao, he’s barely sixteen. They’ll kill him unless-- Wait._

“Samuel.” Kara stepped forward, “Samuel, surely it couldn’t be called treason for you to fall victim to an escaped enemy soldier?” Samuel stared. 

Lena beamed. “Of course! Especially not one who threatened the life of your Liege Lady.” 

Kara blinked. _Wait. What?_ Lena grabbed Kara’s hand, the one resting on the pommel of her sword, and unsheathed the blade, pulling it against her own throat in one swift motion. Kara gaped. Lena elbowed her in the ribs.

“Umm. Right. Either give us a horse or I kill her.” 

Samuel nodded. “My Lady will be wanting Hope as usual?”

Lena’s smile grew. “That would be perfect, thank you.”

…

Lena shivered, one hand on her reins, the other clenching her cloak tight around her. They had been riding for hours, and the rain had yet to let up. They traveled on an abandoned road, almost returned to forest. It was not a commonly known road, an old merchant’s trail from when the eastern border of Krypton had expanded past Metropolis. But those borders had been centuries ago, when Metropolis was barely a village, and over a slow process of wars and trade agreements, the Kryptonian border had pulled back, now lying a good week’s ride from where they trod. Kara’s arms sat snuggly around her waist, though she was partially slumped onto Lena’s back. _It’s amazing she’s even still conscious._

Lena had seen those marks on her back, awful twisted gashes of torn skin and flesh still oozing blood. Lex had always taken a sadistic pleasure in whips. Lena could remember when they were young, before Lex took the crown, finding him taking his free time in the dungeons, overseeing the ‘interrogation’ of prisoners, watching the barbs pull and rip their skin. She shivered again, this time not just from the cold. He had invited her to one of those… viewings. He had sat next to her and egged the soldiers on, ordering them to strike harder, take more time between swings, _Let them feel it_. It had been the only time he had gone to one after his coronation. It had also been after the first time Lena had spoken out against the Kryptonian war. He had turned to her when it was done, turned to her and smiled. 

“It is always better to be in the audience, than on the stage. I would remember that if I were you, Lena. ”

Kara shifted. _Shit._ Lena jerked up sharply on Hope’s reins and slid from the saddle just in time for Kara to collapse on top of her. Her breaths were shallow and her eyes open but glazed. Lena couldn’t tell how much of the wetness of her skin was the rain or sweat. _If she died before they even crossed the border-- They needed shelter, what the hell was she supposed to do?_ Lena pulled Kara backwards into the wood, clicking at Hope to follow. 

Blinking water from her eyes, Lena laid Kara on the ground and hurriedly rummaged through her bag, drawing out a long sheet of canvas. _God, she could barely see._ She tied one end to a low hanging branch and the other to a thumb thick branch which she drove into the ground. It was, at least, a refuge from the rain. Now for the real problem. Kara was burning up. _Infection couldn’t have set in that quickly could it?_ If anything she should have been sick from the cold. Lena grabbed a woolen blanket from her bag and draped it over both of them. It should have been pitch dark, but something _glowed_ . It was faint, had there been any other light possible Lena would not have seen it, but under Kara’s shift, there was a weak, green light. _Of course._ They had said she was injured when she arrived, that she had been shot with an arrow. Lena took Kara’s face in her hands. 

“Kara! Kara! You were shot by an archer. When you removed the arrow, was it broken?” Kara only mumbled incoherently. “Listen to me. Was the arrowhead broken?” 

Kara’s head moved very slightly up and down. A nod. _Shit._

“I need to remove that shard, Kara.” She pulled up Kara’s shift, and let out a low hiss. Green veins shone like cracks across Kara’s stomach, edging from a vaguely pulsing wound. Lena took a steadying breath and, grabbing her dagger, began to dig into Kara’s stomach. 

Using the faint light of the kryptonite shard, Lena pressed apart the wound with two fingers. Kara let out an awful choking gasp, but did not try to stop her. That worried Lena as much as the discolored veins. Lena pressed forward, and there it was, a thin emerald sliver, barely the length of her thumbnail. As soon as Kara lost contact with the shard, her breathing eased; color returned to her cheeks. Lena ducked out of their makeshift tent and threw the shard as hard as she could. 

“Thank you.” 

Lena just about jumped out of her skin. 

Kara was awake. 

Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion and she did not sit up, but she was awake. Lena tugged down one of the bandages across Kara’s back to also cover her side. Kara tried to hide a flinch, and Lena left her her dignity. 

“Next time a piece of poisonous crystal is lodged in your stomach, please tell me.” 

Kara laughed. Lena found herself smiling. There was blood on her hands and her legs shook like a newborn foal’s, but she found herself smiling. Pulling down her shift, Kara spoke. 

“I thought the shard had fallen in the grass somewhere. I assumed the arrow had just poisoned me. But rest assured, I will make sure to be more thorough if it happens again.” Lena sank onto the mossy ground, pulling off her sodden cloak. Kara’s face took on a more pensive look. “We should conserve body heat. Come here,” She gestured Lena over and picked up the blanket, which had been laying by her feet. Lena sighed-- she supposed it was a bit late to remember modesty-- and climbed under the blanket. 

… 

Kara woke to the sun in her face and the sounds of rasping metal. She shot upright, sliding the sword from its sheath and dampening the sound on her blanket. Kara laid the sword down and turned to Lena-- still asleep. She reached over and placed a hand over Lena’s mouth before shaking her awake. Then promptly ducked as Lena took a wild swing at her head with the dagger. _Was she sleeping with that in her hand?_ Kara pressed a finger to her lips, left hand still pressed over Lena’s mouth. She gestured out of the tent-- where six cadmian heavy infantry tramped through the underbrush. Lena pulled Kara’s hand from her mouth, eyes still fixed on the soldiers. Kara picked up the sword and, taking Lena’s hand, slipped silently from the tent. 

The gnarled roots and fallen brush scratched at her feet as Kara picked her way around twigs and dead leaves. Silently, she thanked Rao for the previous night’s rains, as the softened earth muffled her steps and the soggy branches bent instead of snapped. Lena was… well… less skilled at skulking, but she copied Kara’s movements step for step. Kara raised her sword-- it was not exactly a stealthy weapon, but she would make do. (Lena kept a death’s grip on her dagger, and Kara was not sure she knew how to properly operate a short sword). Kara knelt, knees almost touching the grass, and picked up a small rock. 

The squadron had found their camp; they were separating into pairs for the search-- eventually, one of them would find her footprints. 

She threw it. 

The rock smacked into a tree the opposite direction from the camp as they had traveled, slapping against the wood and rustling a bush as it fell. _Not bad for a left handed throw._ The leader of the squadron, a thick man with bushy mustaches that didn’t quite fit under his faceguard and a crimson star on his chest (a captain), signaled a halt, then sent two pairs in a pincer move around where the rock had fallen. _Perfect._ Kara turned to Lena, mouthing,

‘Stay here’, and slipped back towards the soldiers. 

The first man died quickly, a sword jabbed through the back of his neck and out his mouth. Kara held up his body with her left arm as she performed the reverse on his shocked and blood-sprayed companion. She lowered the both of them to the ground as quietly as one could lower two fully grown men in plate armor to the ground. It wasn’t very quiet. A soldier with a red band on his breastplate, an esquire ( _an esquire and a captain, had Lex loaded all of his search parties with such ranks? He truly must be desperate.)_ separated from the Captain and marched over to check the noise. He rounded a tree, opened his mouth to yell the warning, and was dead before he could draw his sword. Unfortunately, he did succeed in letting out a stifled yelp, and the three other soldiers came barrelling through the trees. Kara pushed the hair out of her face and leveled her sword. 

The Captain unsheathed his weapon. A longsword. He was in the middle of the woods and his only weapon was a longsword. Kara did her best to suppress laughter-- _This man was a Captain?_ \-- and gestured him forward. The other two soldiers bore short war hammers, simple-- and deadly. The Captain roared and charged forward, sword held aloft like a spear. Kara side-stepped, sliding around a tree and parrying an attack by one of his companions, hammer slipping across her blade and off to the left.The third soldier took a heavy chunk out of the tree exactly where her head had been a few moments prior. The captain recovered and took a slash at Kara’s back. She dropped to the ground and spun, her sword slipping between his gauntlet and glove, catching his wrist and slicing up his forearm. She jerked her sword back as he recoiled and his weapon very nearly clocked Kara in the face as it fell. Kara rolled to her feet, barely deflecting one of the hammers as she turned. She was breathing heavily, sweat dripped off her face. Her side _burned._ She was still recovering from the kryptonite poisoning. If they caught her with one of those hammers, would she bleed? She needed rest. She needed more sun. She needed-- 

A hammer came flying at her face. 

She needed to kill these soldiers and get moving. 

Kara ducked, catching a thick branch and pulling herself around a tree. She felt the hammer embed itself in the wood. She jumped back around the tree just in time to see the other soldier drop like a stone, with Lena baring a bloody dagger at his back. 

“I told you to--”

“Kara, duck!” _Shit._ Kara ducked. The soldier had gotten his hammer free. It ruffled Kara’s hair as it passed cleanly over her skull. She turned her sword and drove it upwards under her arm, straight through his ribs. She planted her boot on his thigh as she jerked the blade out of his chest. 

“I thought I told you to stay put.” 

“I apologize for not leaving you to fight six men on your own.”

“I had it handled.” Lena raised an eyebrow. She was weirdly good at that.

“Clearly. You look like the storm last night rained blood.” Kara opened her mouth to argue, then glanced down at herself. 

“That is-- a fair assessment. Look,” Kara sighed. “Either way you shouldn’t have endangered yourself like that.”

“I am perfectly accustomed to danger, Kara Zor-El, and right now you and your people are my only chance at survival, so I would appreciate it if you would at least put a day between each of your near-death experiences.” Kara closed her mouth. _Well, what the hell am I supposed to say to that?_ Lena shook her head. 

“Turn around, let me check your back. You’ve probably reopened all the wounds.”

“Oh. Those healed.”

“They. What.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara gets some new clothes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me this long to update, this chapter was a nightmare to write. Thank you all for your patience!

Stagburgh was the last true city before a traveler hit the mountains. If you rode properly, with nightly breaks and good horse care, it was a six day trek to the mountains, and four days back to Metropolis. Kara and Lena did not ride properly. They rode for two days straight, stopping only for bathroom breaks and water gathering. Kara placed their camp in the woods just south of the city walls. They were running low on supplies, and, as Lena had put it-- while pointedly not looking anywhere below Kara’s face--

“How exactly do you plan to get past border patrols like _that._ ” Which was why Kara currently found herself anxiously tending their campfire while Lena rode into town, their supply bag over her shoulder and a small fortune in gems settled at its bottom. 

… 

Lena was not panicking. Sure, she was riding alone into a city full of her brother’s soldiers and her ticket of safety into Krypton was sitting in the woods half-naked and absolutely incapable of offering her any aid, but she was not panicking. She was perfectly calm. She was perfectly, utterly composed. Besides even if she was panicking-- which she wasn’t-- Lena had been raised in the high court. She knew how to act. She could fake composure. Right? 

Lena’s hands did not shake as she steered Hope through the city gates, green hood pulled low. The city was-- well, boisterous would be somewhat of an understatement. Lena looked for the first time at the inside of the city and an explosion of color hit her eyes. Red and Gold triangle banners fluttered on lines, criss crossing the streets. People ran through the streets in bright clothes that could never have seen a day of work. Music filtered down from what Lena suspected would be a city square. Despite the claustrophobic buildings pushing inwards, the boulevard seemed vast and airy. Lena realised she had stopped in the middle of the street, and clicked Hope forward. The noise level only grew as she approached the main square. The rhythmic thundering of feet on stone mixed with the sounds of a group of musicians, their stomps keeping time with dulcimer and pipe. A large group of commoners were dancing in rings around the center of the square. A giggling hoard of small children sprinted between vending stalls and gathered around her horse, stroking Hope with wide eyes. Off to her left a vendor shouted of his meat pies and on her right another sported squashes and gourds. _This looked like-- Oh. The Harvest Festival._ She had forgotten. Yesterday would have been the day of gathering night, the beginning of the winter preparations. 

_Labor is done. Gone is the sun._

_Safely stored, the Harvest is ended._

_All in a ring; Dancing we sing_

Lena found herself murmuring the last lines of their song. It had been a very long time since she attended a thing like this. The last time Lena had been at a festival (a true festival, not a court feast or treaty signing) her mother had held her hand as they mimicked the dancing people in the circles, her soft voice seeming to overpower the chorus around them. Lena shook herself; _that_ had been a very long time ago. A very different time. And speaking of time, Lena was wasting it. 

The vendors were quick to point out a clothier’s shop once Lena flashed a few gems. It was the one quality you could always rely upon in Men: Greed. In truth, she had been reticent to show the gems at all. Despite the fact that the gems she had shown were actually the smallest and lowest quality of her collection, they would draw unwanted eyes. She kept her hood low as she walked, searching the street for guards. It was because of this that she saw the first sign. Abstractly, she had known they would probably be made, be distributed, but it was different to see them. 

Lena had only ever seen two drawings of herself before. Well, they weren’t really drawings, but portraits. The first was of herself, Lex, her father and Lillian shortly after she had been brought to the castle. Lex had hair then and Lena had barely come up to Lillian’s waist. It was the only portrait in the entire castle in which Lex was smiling. That smile pained like a knife to the gut. He had been smiling because of her. The second portrait had been over twenty years later. After Lionel had died. After Lex’s coronation. This time, Lillian was the one who smiled. Whatever artist Lex had found had done a wonderful job at capturing her likeness, the damned man had even caught her sparse freckles. _Keep moving. Nothing to do now but keep moving._ Lena tore the sign from the wall as she passed, tucking it discreetly into her sack.

...

The owner of the clothiers was a stout, grey-haired woman with worn, calloused hands. Gnarled fingers raked a damp cloth across the counter. She glanced up when Lena entered, but continued scrubbing. Lena cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“Is this Mistress Carder’s Clothiers?”

“Aye, I’m Mistress Carder, folks call me Anne. What can I do ye’ for?” 

“Do you have any garments that must be thrown out or recycled for mistakes or rejection by clients?” Anne paused. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’d like to know if you have any clothing, specifically for a woman, that you need to scrap.” The woman only stared at her. Lena reached into her pack, digging out a handful of gems, and slapped them onto the counter. Anne nodded slowly,

“I might have some that could be pinned to fit ye’. They’re in the back, would you prefer to wait here or would you like to look at the whole reuse pile.” Lena glanced around the shop, it seemed empty except for her but still… 

“I’ll go with you. A companion of mine also needs new clothes and she is slightly taller than me. Thank you.” She wanted to keep this woman in her sights. The woman grunted acknowledgement and gestured at Lena to follow her. The back of the shop was a cluttered and dimly lit room, of which most of the space was occupied by a small pedestal for clients, and a large work table. A pair of brown britches lay draped over the table, pins holding together a damaged seam. By the far left wall, Lena caught sight of a small staircase, likely leading to Anne’s living quarters. The “reuse pile” was a wooden box, up to about Lena’s ribcage. Anne began to rummage through the clothes, withdrawing several dresses of varying shades of brown and grey. She stacked these on the bench next to the work table for Lena to look at. They would all be ill fitting but… Yes, some of these would do nicely. Lena folded her choices and stuffed them into her sack (she had left most of its contents back with Kara at their camp so she would have room). She also snagged a chemise from the pile. _This just left--_

“Might you have any corsets that would still be functioning?” Anne furrowed her brows, 

“I might, functioning is a broad term though, rows or lining might be damaged.” She resumed her excavation of the box. _Well, something was better than nothing._

...

Lena left with a mostly intact corset that was about Kara’s size-- there had been one which would have fit her better but its lining was beyond salvation--, several dresses of… well, varying size, a chemise that would more or less fit Kara, and several fewer rubies. She was in high spirits as she untied Hope from a street post and walked her down back towards the festival-- she could buy provisions on her way out of the city. As Lena approached a butcher (who had dried meat hanging on display), she saw a golden-haired young lord in infantry armor come strutting down from a nearby tavern. He seemed to be berating his servant, though his words were lost in the cacophony of the square. Lena stiffened and pulled down her hood. The pair continued down towards her and Lena caught the tail end of his lecture. 

“Honestly, if I have to come chase you down from the tavern One. More. Time.” The red-shirted servant merely looked on with poorly concealed amusement, finally turning from his master to approach a sweet breads vendor next to the butcher’s. The servant turned to get payment from his master and stopped dead, grey eyes fixed on Lena. He squinted. Lena froze. The servant’s eyes slid from Lena to a poster several feet away and back again. _He knew._ The servant glanced back at his master. Then he muttered, just loud enough for Lena to hear, 

“For once, not my fucking problem.” and turned back to the sweet breads vendor, paying out of pocket. Lena let out a low, shaky breath. She staggered hurriedly towards the butcher’s and didn’t lift her hood past her nose for the rest of her purchases. 

She reached the city gates without further incident, and rode for some time out of the way of her camp to make sure she wasn’t followed. From the distance, Lena could make out a small regiment of Cadmian soldiers approaching Stagburgh on the main road. Kara jumped to her feet as Lena broke into the clearing. 

“Thank Rao! What took you so long? I thought you might’ve been caught!” Lena dropped from the saddle, 

“I took a detour coming out of the city. I wanted to make sure no one traced me back to you. We should get on the road soon though, Lex’s soldiers are almost here.” Kara swore. 

“Did you get the supplies?” Lena nodded, reaching into her bag. 

“I thought these could fit you.” Kara grabbed the bundle of clothes and slipped into the tent. 

“How was it? In the city, I mean. Extra guards?”

“I’m not sure, there didn’t seem to be. There were wanted posters though, of you and me.” Kara grunted. 

“I knew there would be eventually, but this was a bit fast.” 

“Lex is angry, Kara, and there isn’t much he can’t do when he’s angry. The Harvest festival has dampened his efforts, I think. It’s hard to keep watch on a city with every inhabitant on the streets.” Kara stuck her head out from the tent.

“The Harvest Festival has started?” 

“Yes.” Kara was chewing on the inside of her lip, staring at nothing. “What’s wrong?”

“I--” She shook her head. “I didn’t know it had been so long.” Kara stood, she was wearing the new chemise, and lacing her corset. “I should be back in Krypton, overseeing the farewell ceremony. I should be with my people.” Anger suddenly overtook her face. “I shouldn’t be stuck here in the damn woods relying on the sister of my enemy to buy me scraps!” Lena’s face hardened. Kara sighed. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t yelling at you I just--” Kara clenched her jaw and ran a hand through her hair. “I should be with my people.” 

“It’s alright. I didn’t know Kryptonians celebrated the Harvest Festival.” Kara laughed softly.   
“Lena, I think every country in the world celebrates some kind of holiday around right now, but no, Kryptonians do not celebrate the Harvest festival. The Farewell ceremony is almost completely unrelated. It is a sacred holiday to us. We all gather with our families and friends and say goodbye to Rao as he loses power in the sky.”

“Rao is your people’s god right? A sun god?” Kara nodded, smiling. 

“He is the newly born, the bringer of light and life.” Her smile faded. “And I cannot observe his rites in this place.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you.” Kara picked up the dress and put it on. “We should get moving. I have no doubt of the ruckus those soldiers will cause when they reach Stagburgh.”

…

Lex Luthor was a patient man-- truly he was-- which was why he had not had this lot executed upon finding out that his sister had just waltzed in and out of the city gates. The Stagburgh guard were not a respectable military force, but allowing a known traitor to simply walk into the city uncontested while HER FACE WAS ON A WANTED POSTER A HANDSPAN AWAY was truly trying the limits of stupidity and pressing into plain treason. Lex massaged his temples. Lena had been right here, and these buffoons had let her slip right through their fingers. _It doesn’t matter._ Lex squeezed the horn of his saddle. _It doesn’t matter. We know where she is going. This is just a minor set back._

“Please tell me _someone_ has any idea what happened here.” The words came out as a hiss. A nervous looking squire pressed forward. He was of Lex’s own men, sent to scour the city for any information on Lena. 

“My Lord, a few of the townspeople say they saw a woman matching the Princess’ description and said she was asking around for a clothier’s shop.” 

“Well? Do I have to beat it out of you?” The boy cringed. “What shop you idiot?” 

“Mistress Carder’s, sir, would you like me to bring her to you.” 

“No.” Lex barked. “No, I want to see this shop for myself.” He spurred his horse forward. “Lord Edge, execute the Captain of the Guard.” Well, he hadn't killed _all_ of them. 

...

The ugly seamstress was enclosed by three of Lex’s infantry acting as guards. She looked cautious, but oddly not afraid. 

“You must be Mistress Carder, correct?” The woman nodded, performing a short, but sincere curtsy. “Would you mind terribly, to explain what happened in this shop today involving the woman in that poster.” He gestured at a wanted sign one of the soldiers had brought. 

“No trouble, Milord. She came into the shop and asked if I had any old women’s garments that would be recycled or thrown out and offered to pay for them.”

“And you didn’t wonder at all why someone would specifically ask for ready made poor quality clothing?” 

“Aye, I wondered, but I didn’t ask.” Lex grit his teeth. 

“Why, precisely?” The woman looked at him as though he were slow. 

“Milord, if someone offers you that much money for some scraps, you giv’er whatever she asks for and get her out of your shop as fast as possible. There’s a sayin’ and I’ve ne’er seen it go wrong: Don’t dice a man who’s got nothing to lose. Don’t matter what she wanted, she was desperate, and I doubt she was leavin’ without those clothes.” She brushed a lock of hair from her face, and fixed him with a penetrating stare. “I don’t want no trouble, Milord. Of _any_ source. I suppose you’ll be needin’ to know what she bought?” Lex nodded, 

“Richards, we leave this city in half an hour, I want a full list of whatever the princess bought from here brought to me by then or I’ll have you flogged. Is that clear?” Richards saluted. “Good. The Kryptonian and my sister will already be on the move. I want a word sent out to the mountain stations and someone to bring a page boy and writing supplies to me at the gates. We’ve wasted enough time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have done my best to approach as close as I can to historical accuracy with the clothier as I can with regards to continuing the plot. I will be honest: I have no idea how shops would be arranged in the middle ages. Ultimately accuracy is secondary in this line up so the complete bullshit i wrote up concerning the clothier should be taken with a grain of salt and suspended belief. The song lyrics I used are lyrics to a real medieval French song called, creatively “Harvest Song” by Vial De Sabligny. If anyone is wondering about the Kyrptonian holiday I mentioned it is entirely made up-- though I don’t doubt something similar to it exists in canon: to my knowledge every sun god based religion has some sort of holy day or festival relating to the autumnal equinox-- Rao’s title of “the newly born”, however, is not.


End file.
